


Comfortably Numb

by loglady1980



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Prison, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, basically georges reaction to dreams imprisonment, if he hadn’t been asleep lmfao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28891872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loglady1980/pseuds/loglady1980
Summary: Detaching isn’t easy, even if you claim to not have any attachments. This is how Dream copes.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 31
Kudos: 280





	Comfortably Numb

**Author's Note:**

> tw for suicidal thoughts, blood, a little bit of implied self-harm. pls don't read if it makes you uncomfy <3

Detaching isn’t easy. 

You start small, with friends you hardly see. You start seeing them less and less until you forget their names, forget their favorite band, the song they dance to when they’re sad. Then you move onto the people that matter more, the ones you wish a happy birthday without fail, the ones who you make silly gifts for and bake for and show up at their house unannounced. The ones you'd stay up until three AM with, no matter what. The final step is tricky. It’s family, or, rather, the friends that become family. The ones who tumble over the line from friends to lovers, or the ones who start off as friends, but through years of trust and painful survival, become brothers. You have to excise them like a tumor, no casual distancing, no drifting away. It’s like ripping off a bandage, or a painful atomic blast with no survivors. It’s heart-wrenching and unsavory and ugly and fucking _devastating_. It’s a conscious decision to _not_ reminisce at any cost. 

It's a choice, and a painful one at that.

Sam climbed into a small oak boat off the shore of the mountainous island, and Dream took one last look back at Sapnap, who averted his gaze quickly, swiping at his eyes. 

“Sapnap?” Dream called as Sam readied the oars. 

“Save it,” Sapnap grunted, pulling Punz back into the waiting portal. 

“Tell George I’m sorry!” Dream screamed, causing Sapnap to stop in his tracks. He turned back, just for a moment, chest heaving, watching as Dream buried his face in his hands. 

“Please,” he cried, watching as Sapnap trudged up the hill, Punz gripping his arm protectively. Sam tugged Dream towards the boat, gentle hands guiding him to sit on the wooden planks. 

Dream watched as their bodies grew smaller and eventually materialized, swirling dizzyingly as the portal wooshed with finality.

The journey to the prison was quiet. Nothing like the chaos Dream was accustomed to, the chaos he thrived in, the chaos that he’d come to call his home. 

The waves lapped gently against the boat as Sam rowed dutifully, humming to himself while the sun slipped over the horizon. Dream hunched over, running his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands that had grown unruly as the days passed planning for the final battle. George was the one who always cut his hair, and Dream shivered remembering his graceful fingers raking through the blonde curls, nose wrinkling in concentration. 

_“Goodbye, my love_ ,” George had whispered, pressing their lips together as Dream left him at the community house, all those months ago. 

_“Goodbye.”_

Dream dethroned George a few days later, severing his last attachment, his last connection to the physical world. It felt like cutting off his blood flow, letting a piece of himself go numb and die. 

It hurt at the time, but most things do.

 _“This is for your own good, George!”_ he’d yelled, face contorting with rage.

_“You don’t fucking own me! You can’t do this!”_

_“I own everything—I own the ground you walk on and the air you breathe. I own you, I’ve owned you since the beginning!”_

_“I’m the king, you can’t-”_

_“You may be the king,”_ Dream chuckled, eyes blazing, _“but I’m a fucking god.”_

“Alright then, step through here!” Sam says cheerfully, pressing his keycard to the reader, leaning against the blackstone wall as the iron entrance slowly cycles open.

 _“It’s so ridiculous to watch!”_ he’d giggled weeks earlier, when Dream visited to see the construction’s progress.

 _“That’s insane, man,”_ Dream had replied, patting his friend on the back jovially. _“Holy shit.”_

“You don’t have anything on you, right?” 

Dream shook his head numbly, eyes trained to the floor.

“Dream?”

“No Sam,” he whispers, “nothing on me.”

“Oh, almost forgot. The mask. Hand over the mask,” Sam demands.

“No, I can’t-”

“Nobody’s going to be looking at you.”

With a gentle sigh, Dream drops the mask into Sam’s hand, feeling his heart pound as the latter casually tosses it into a small pool of lava. 

_George made me that._

“Okay, Dream. Here’s your cell,” Sam says gruffly, flicking a lever to reveal a small room with thick iron bars securing the front. “You know the rules, no mining, no placing. There’s guards coming in for their shifts right now, ask them if you need something, I guess. We’ll drop you food once a day.” He turns away, looking to the massive lava pillars churning menacingly behind blackened glass. “Maybe twice a day, if you’re good.”

_I know the rules, of course I know the rules._

“I’m sorry, Dream,” Sam blurts as the bars glide shut. “I wanted to help you. I really did.”

Dream ignores him, slumping against the wall, easing himself onto the stone floor as lamps flicker. “Tommy’s visiting tomorrow?” he asks, feeling his skin buzz with rage.

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam says tiredly. “Goodbye, Dream.”

“Bye,” Dream mumbles, curling up as an endermite scuttles across the floor, chirping cheerfully.

Dream lets himself cry, muffling the gut-wrenching sobs with his sweatshirt. He lets his tears stain the blackened stone, lets his heart ache for George, for Sapnap, for Callahan and Alyssa and Sam and Punz. For the family that wasn’t quite his family anymore. George was long gone, building a new life Alex and Karl; Punz and Sapnap created an alliance, becoming brothers in arms; and Callahan had hidden Alyssa away for her protection, only returning to silently watch as Dream was manhandled into the elevator.

Sam, dear Sam. The brother he’d protected and fought beside. His captor. 

He’d possessed all of them, like a collector’s set, and they betrayed him. Every last one.

Tommy arrives early the next morning, walking confidently through the doors with Tubbo trailing behind. He mutters something to Sam, who nods and steps back after ruffling Tubbo’s hair affectionately. Tommy looks older, wiser, more confident, but the usual childish grin is nowhere to be found as he approaches the cell, eyes searching for Dream’s huddled form.

Dream slams his body against the bars, frantically grasping at Tommy. “Fuck you,” he snarls, “you stupid fucking _child_. LET ME OUT!”

“Woah, Dream, my friend,” Tommy chuckles darkly, stepping back. “We’re just here to talk!”

“I have nothing to say,” Dream spits, eyes flicking between the two boys before him. 

Tommy sighs, motioning to Tubbo, who hesitantly moves closer to the bars.

“Dream,” Tubbo chirps, “we want to bring Wilbur back-”

“Really, Tommy? Why don’t you talk instead of making your little sidekick here do all the dirty work?”

“Tubbo is not my sidekick,” he says evenly, “but I’ll speak if that’s what you want so badly. We want Wilbur back.”

“Not my problem,” Dream hisses. 

“Oh, Dream,” Tommy laughs coldly, “I think it is your problem. Now, the only reason why you’re still alive is so we can bring Wilbur back, and so nobody ever has to die again.”

“I don’t care who lives or dies.”

Tubbo tugs at Tommy’s arm, whispering in his ear. Dream watches as Tommy’s face lights up, his eyes widening manically.

“Really? So you wouldn’t be opposed to us killing _George_?” Tommy inquires with a mischievous grin.

Dream scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’d never do it. He has Sapnap and Punz protecting him. He has- he has Callahan. You’d never make it past them.”

Tubbo suppresses a laugh, covering his mouth and elbowing Tommy, urging him to continue.

Tommy kneels so their eyes lock, and Dream practically trembles with fury. “Look at this,” he murmurs, producing a compass from within his jacket. “This is a _very_ special compass, Dream. Very special. It’s similar to the one I had, in exile, except you won’t be keeping this.”

Tubbo breathes in sharply, shifting uneasily as Tommy continues.

“This points us to your precious _Gogy_ no matter where he is. All Tubbo and I have to do is find him and catch him at just the right time. And I promise you, we will find him. We’ll kill him when you’re awake, so you can watch the notification— _GeorgeNotFound was slain using Nightmare_. We’ll kill your boy with _your own sword_. And don’t even _think_ about bringing him back to life,” Tommy hisses, clenching his fists, “I will make sure George dies _painfully_ , again and again and again. I will make sure you feel how Wilbur felt, how Niki felt, how we _all_ felt as we watched our loved ones die at your hands. I will _make sure_.”

Dream feels his heart plummet, stomach churning with rage and betrayal. “I don’t give a fuck about George,” he spits. 

“Dream,” Tubbo giggles. “We know that isn’t true. You exiled Tommy, turned me against him, and for what? Because he broke a few blocks of George’s vacation house? You put Tommy through hell, desecrated our home, destroyed our family, demolished our country, all for George.”

Tommy nods sharply, standing up and dusting himself off. “You may have fooled everyone with your talk of _attachments_ , how you apparently care for no one,” he chuckles, “but you sure as hell didn’t fool us. Think about it, big man. Sleep on it. We’ll be back soon,” he finishes, smiling wickedly. 

Dream studies Tommy’s face, shuddering as he notices the all-too-familiar smile. The gentle, honeyed tone of voice. 

_“Someday, Dream, I hope you feel like me. I hope you understand how it feels to lose everything,”_ Tommy had sobbed as Logsteadshire burned. 

_“Tommy, Tommy. When will you understand? Gods never lose,”_ Dream replied in that disgustingly sweet tone.

It felt like looking in a mirror.

_What have I created? Who have I become?_

They don’t return.

The days drag on impossibly, and Dream finds himself spending hours just staring at the ceiling, scratching his nails blunt and raw on the smooth blackstone. He barely sleeps, spending his nights squeezing his eyes shut and trying to dream about George—the day they built their home; the day they fished in the same boat, out on the open ocean, as Dream quaked at their closeness; the day George kissed him for the first time, after they’d raided a bastion and Dream almost died to a horde of piglins. 

Instead, nightmares plague his thoughts—George’s screams as Dream left him and Sapnap huddled together, disappearing into the wilderness to search for Tommy; Alyssa’s sobs as Callahan pulled her away from their home, promising to protect her from Dream’s tyranny; Sapnap’s silent tears when he realized Dream blew up the community house.

He spends every day on high alert, listening for something, anything to make him feel _human_ again.

Whatever that meant. Human.

He sees Sapnap and Punz walk past the cell a few times a day, chatting amicably as they patrol the hallways. Sapnap’s laugh always carried loudly, no matter where they were. Dream remembers their first night in the community house, when Sapnap insisted on pushing their beds together, cackling as George struggled to move his bright pink mattress. Dream had woken up with George snuggled up into his side, bony elbows digging into his chest. He didn’t dare move as George breathed deeply, mumbling softly in his sleep, heart thudding slowly, steadily. They’d both flushed deep red when Sapnap collapsed into giggles at their sleeping situation, George muttering angrily as he disentangled himself from Dream’s embrace.

Sam sets up a system so he’s given one steak a day. Dream depletes his energy in the mornings, letting the dizziness of hunger distract him from reality for a few hours until the food pops out of a hidden dispenser. He starves himself some days, pushing his body to the verge of collapse, then eats again to maintain some semblance of cognitive function. Some nights, after Sapnap and Punz finish their patrol, Dream slams his head against the wall until his ears ring, letting warm blood seep through his scalp, soaking his matted hair, mixing with a layer of sweat and grime. Sam always finds him the next morning, feeding him golden apples and washing the dried blood off with gentle hands and a worried grimace. 

“You’ll get a concussion, Dream. Brain damage.”

_Like I care._

It’s a bleak existence.

A few weeks pass, or what Dream thinks is a few weeks—time seems to stand still within the four walls of his cell. Tommy and Tubbo are nowhere to be found, and Sam refuses to tell Dream anything about the outside world. He’s hopelessly isolated, hopelessly deserted. Punz and Sapnap continue their patrol, walking the halls of the massive bastille built to imprison one man.

Not a man, a god.

Out of desperation, Dream calls out to Sapnap one night, his voice gruff with disuse. He hears the footsteps falter and shuffle to a stop, then a tired, “yes?”

“Is Punz with you?”

“Nope. Just me.”

“I- I was wondering if-”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to make requests, Dream.”

“I know,” Dream says shakily, “please, just hear me out. I think George is in danger.”

“How?” Sapnap grumbles, “I have people guarding him.”

“All the time?”

“Well, no, of course not _all_ the time.”

“Tommy and Tubbo-” Dream whispers, “they- they came here a few weeks ago, I think, and they told me if I didn’t revive Wilbur they’d murder George. Completely. No coming back to life, nothing.”

“I doubt that,” Sapnap chuckles uneasily, “they got their discs, they’ll be fine.”

“Sapnap, I am deathly fucking serious. I promise you, this is important.”

“Yeah?” Sapnap breathes, “Your promises don’t mean shit to me anymore.”

He stalks off, footsteps echoing softly.

The next time he calls out to Sapnap it’s louder, angrier, more desperate. Dream’s screams reverberate throughout the halls, and he bangs harshly against the walls until his knuckles are raw. Sapnap mutters something to Punz and walks to stand outside Dream’s cell with a huff.

“How’s George?” Dream asks hurriedly.

“He’s fine, Dream, I just saw him a few hours ago. Now, can you stop the racket?”

“Bring him to me,” Dream growls, “ _please._ ”

“I told you, you’re not in a position to make requests,” Sapnap barked. “He doesn’t want to fucking see you.” 

White-hot anger courses through Dream’s veins, scalding his skin as he stands up and walks to face Sapnap.

“Bring him to me, or I swear to God, I’ll kill myself. I have _nothing_ left to live for. If you or your precious little friends die? No coming back. _Ever._ Wilbur stays dead, George will die,” Dream snarls. “Tommy and Tubbo only have one life left. How long before those idiots need a resurrection? I may have no attachments left, but you sure as hell do. Bring me George, or prepare to watch your fantasy world _burn._ ”

_What have I created? Who have I become?_

Sapnap recoils, chest heaving as Dream glares down at him menacingly.

“What happened to you, man?” he gasps, searching Dream’s eyes with a hint of desperation. “What happened to you?”

He walks away, leaving Dream to his nightmares. 

George stumbles into the prison the next day, removing the white glasses Dream had lovingly placed into his open palms, that day when they went to the roof of the nether for his birthday. He gasps softly as he steps through the iron entrance, and Dream perks up immediately when he hears those faint footsteps, the same ones he used to listen for as George quietly padded around their house, feeding the cats before climbing into bed. 

“His cell is through here,” Sam mumbles softly, “be careful, he’s been- he’s been doing things to himself.”

“What?” George falters. “What do you mean?”

“He’s hurting himself.”

“Jesus. Okay, let me see him.”

“You want Sapnap with you?”

“No, I’d like to speak to him alone.”

Sam nods, flicking the light in the cell on. Dream leans against the corner, squinting to glance up when George appears from behind Sam. He looks tired, dark circles outlining his red-rimmed eyes, perpetually slumped posture evident through his thin blue shirt. The former king sets his mouth into a grim line, taking in the sight before him, the sight of his former lover caged in like he was downright rabid, with disgustingly matted hair and dirtied clothes.

“Twenty minutes, George,” Sam says, stalking off.

George nods slowly, lowering himself to the floor, sitting a few feet away from the iron bars. He reminds Dream of a skittish animal, ready to flee at any moment, clasping his hands in front of his shins and leaning back against the opposite wall. 

“George,” Dream says weakly, “you came.”

“Yes.”

“Did Sapnap tell you why?”

“He- he said you were suicidal.”

“Well-”

“Dream, you made a choice. You have to live with that choice.”

“I KNOW!” Dream yells, slamming his fist to the ground. “God, I fucking know. That’s not- I wanted you here because you’re in danger.”

George rolls his eyes, tugging at his shoelace absentmindedly. “Is that all? I’m in danger? I have guards, Dream.”

“No, no, you don’t-”

“I really didn’t want to come here, you know. I really didn’t want to see you,” George whispers, and Dream feels his heart drop to his stomach as his face burns with shame.

“I know, George, just let me finish. You’ll be rid of me then.”

“Okay.”

“Tommy and Tubbo came to visit me,” Dream says gently, in that voice he reserved just for George. The one without a hint of manipulation or malice, the one that reeked of love and dripped with adoration. “They visited me- er- I’m not sure of how much time has passed. Anyways, they told me they’re going to kill you if I don’t resurrect Wilbur, but they told me to sleep on it. They gave me a choice. I was going to do it, all to save you, but the next day, nobody showed.”

George laughs ruefully, finally raising his eyes to meet Dream. “Save me? I saw them yesterday. They seemed fine... No insane murder plots. I helped Tubbo rebuild his house.”

“George, you don’t understand. They’ve somehow put a tracker on you—they’re going to catch you when you’re unprotected and kill you until you’re past saving, past resurrection. They’ll do it slowly, painfully. Tommy told me himself. You don’t understand what I saw in him. It was like Wilbur, but a thousand times worse, it was like-”

“It was like you?” George whispers harshly. “Did you turn the child—the _fucking child—_ you manipulated into a version of yourself? Do you see yourself in Tommy? Well, Dream, I’m sorry, but I can’t say that I’m surprised,” he finishes, voice trembling. 

“I just want you to be safe,” Dream argues, “my mistakes are in the past, but at the very least, I want to keep you alive.”

“You may think your mistakes are in the past, but I’m still fucking paying for them. We all are,” George hisses, brown eyes darkened with rage. 

“George-”

“No, it’s my turn to talk now. It never was my turn to talk, was it? I never got a chance to speak, not when the great _Dream_ was around-”

“What do you mean? I gave you everything, I made you king!” Dream yells, feeling tears prick at his eyes.

“You made me king, and I thanked you, because _finally,_ I wasn’t a supporting act, I wasn’t second-string to you. And then, when it stopped suiting you and your narrative _,_ you ripped it away from me. You robbed me of my purpose, you robbed me of my friends—Karl, Alex, they hated when I stood up for you—God, Dream, _you sucked the fucking life out of me._ ”

“Everything I’ve done is to defend you! Why can’t you see that?” Dream cries, grasping at the bars desperately, almost as if he’d feel George's touch if he gripped hard enough.

“You did not dethrone me to defend me,” George continues calmly. “You did not exile Tommy to avenge me. You did not do a single thing for _me._ Your entire life is a power trip, a miserable ploy to make everyone feel wretched and make yourself feel like a god.”

“I- I love you,” Dream whispers hoarsely, feeling his lungs burn. “I loved you. I loved you for so long, I loved you so much it hurt. Please believe me.”

“Bullshit. Sapnap told me everything you said in that room, the room where you were planning to keep everyone’s attachments, the room where you were planning to kill Tubbo in front of his _best friend_. You wonder why Tommy’s the way he is now? If someone had tried to kill you in front of me, back when I gave a fuck about you, I’d have lost my fucking mind. You curse Tommy for punishing you? For locking you up? I think you got off easy, because, quite honestly, I would have killed you with my bare hands.”

Dream drops his head into his hands, feeling himself go numb, feeling every last cell in his body begin to surrender. The same lips he’d worshipped spat fire and poison at him until he materialized, twisting away into clouds of smoke and ash. 

_I don’t feel real anymore. I’m not alive, I’m just watching myself exist._

“I didn’t mean it, George,” Dream mumbles, feeling hot tears spill onto his cheeks. “I just wanted Tommy to learn his lesson and then I was done. I was done. I would have come find you, so we could go live in the mountains, in your house, just like you always wanted.”

“I don’t believe you,” George murmurs chillingly, “and I don’t think I ever did. I don't think your love is real, pure. I don't think your love is like mine—you're- you're just obsessed with possessing me.”

_I love you, I'm sorry, I don't know how to say I love you. I wish you knew how much I love you. I wish I was good enough for you._

“I- I fell in love with you on the ocean, remember? That day we all went fishing together and you jumped in my boat. I got so nervous because you sat really close to me—I remember feeling your breath on my skin. I wanted to impress you with my rod's enchants and ended up catching nothing but salmon,” Dream whispers, feeling his heart swell at memories of their joyful days, before the discs, before the wars.

George sighs, closing his eyes. “Dream, don’t-”

“And I fell in love with you in the nether, even though it’s supposed to be hell. I fell in love with the way you couldn’t distinguish between nether brick and netherite ingot. I fell in love with the way you threw yourself in front of me when there was lava, even though we both had fire resistance. I fell in love with the way you tried so hard to ricochet fireballs back to the ghasts, but always ended up exploding yourself.”

“Please,” George whispers, flinching slightly. “Don’t do this.”

“I fell in love with you in the mushroom cottage. That morning we woke up together, after the war, after Wilbur died, and it actually seemed okay. I felt like I could let go of everything, let go of the discs and power and Tommy and L’Manburg. I felt like I was whole, complete, finally healed with nothing more than you by my side. I watched the sun stream through the windows and I watched your face light up when I rolled on top of you and kissed you breathless. I remember all those dinners we had with Callahan and Alyssa, back when we were neighbors, I remember how you’d kick my feet under the table. I remember getting Beckerson with Sapnap, and I remember scaring Tommy by standing on the crafting table and ender chest. I remember sitting in the trees watching sunsets, and you scooted away so I thought you hated me. You told me later you were just nervous around me, but you didn’t realize how nervous I was around you. I remember all of it, George, I never forgot. I’ll cherish it, just like I’ll cherish you. I can’t break myself out of here, but I can save you. I want to save you. I’ll be fine as long as you’re alive, even if you’re not with me.”

“Dream-" George starts, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I would have killed for you,” he says in a small voice.

_What have I created? Who have I become?_

“I would have killed for you, Dream,” he says louder. “All you had to do was ask. All you had to do was tell me the plan, and I would have stood by you. I defended you blindly for so long—not only to Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo—but to Sapnap. Even he doubted you. I assured everyone that you knew what you were doing, that you were stronger and wiser and better than anyone else. All you had to do was clue me in, for once in your pathetic fucking life, and I would have done anything for you.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Dream presses, feeling his mind cloud with despair.

“That train has left the station, Dream. I’m hurt. I’m hurt and I’m crying to the boy who left me to go be a god. I’m hurt and I’m telling you I would have killed for you.”

“I did kill for you.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m surrounded by people. Every day of my life, I’m surrounded by people. Sapnap sleeps at my house now. Karl and Alex are staying with me too, since their homes got destroyed. I’m always with people. Constantly. But I-” George stutters, letting out a choked sob, “I have never felt more alone. And it’s your fault.”

Dream’s stomach lurches, and he silently tracks a small tear slipping down George's freckled cheek.

“Sapnap and I went to the community house, our first house, yesterday. We sat in the ruins and even went down to see your room—the room where we- fuck,” George mutters, wiping his eyes furiously. “You blew up our home. Just like you blew up Tommy’s home, and Tubbo’s home, and Karl’s and Sapnap’s and Alex’s and Wilbur’s and Niki’s. You ruined everyone, Dream, even me.”

George whimpers softly as tears spill down his cheeks, and he trains his eyes to the floor, chest heaving. “I'm sorry—I don’t have anything left to say. I’m going to go now, Dream.”

Dream’s heart stutters, and he stands, gripping the bars firmly. 

“George, you have to trust me. Get out of here,” he chokes out, trying to pretend like tears aren’t streaming down his face. “Ask Sapnap to get you to Callahan and Alyssa. He knows where they are. They’ll hide you and take care of you, just until Tommy and Tubbo calm down. I’m begging you to listen, George. _Baby_. If you die I have nothing. You hear me? Nothing _._ ”

“Maybe you deserve to have nothing.”

George stands up, jaw set, brown eyes searching green for any flashes of his former lover, the lover who’d made a home in his heart. Dissatisfied, he begins walking to the door, ignoring the quiet sobs emitting from the cell. Wiping a stray tear away, he pushes the button, and Dream watches as the iron cycles closed—a thousand miles and more separating two hearts, two souls still excruciatingly intertwined. 

Two days later, the door groans open once again, and Dream blinks at the light as three shadows appear. Blood rushes to his head when Sam steps through, leading Tommy and Tubbo, who absentmindedly twirls a glowing netherite sword as they walk. 

“Big man!” Tommy exclaims, adjusting the white glasses perched on his forehead. “I think we’re long overdue for a _friendly_ discussion, hmm?”

_What have I created? Who have I become?_  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is just a one-shot i was thinking of while watching the streams today. i took a bit of creative liberty as far as lore goes, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
> 
> the title comes from a song called comfortably numb by pink floyd. it reminds me of dream's smp character for some reason.
> 
> love from the loglady :)


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